


the art of cat bathing

by breathtaken



Series: yes, and [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Collars, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Non-Monogamy, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 17:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/breathtaken
Summary: Surely the first time should be the hardest.Surely this should be getting easier, or he should be getting better at it, not worse.





	the art of cat bathing

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this ate my brain. Thank you to all of those who know who they are. <3
> 
> Please do not mention (the existence of) this fic publicly outside of AO3.

****After that evening, Liam is fine for about six weeks before the gears in his mind start to slip out of alignment.

It’s easy not to notice at first, or not to admit it. His schedule’s unforgiving bordering on punishing at the moment and nobody’s cheerful when they’re run down; and the sheer amount of pain and cruelty in the world is so overwhelming that to just shrug it off would be bordering on crass. But.

There’s another sign, one he knows well: he can only describe it as feeling like he’s playing himself as a character on a series of off-nights, scrambling to hit his marks and always a beat behind in following everyone else’s cues, brain working overtime to record every fault in his shoddy performance because there’s no-one but himself to give him the notes he needs to get his shit together. 

He just about manages to keep his head above water at work, glad he’s directing and not acting at the moment, but it takes all he has; he stops for takeout on the way home too often and starts leaving his friends on read more often than not, or replies exclusively in emojis so he’s at least contributing something – which is awful of him, but when everything he types out looks arrogant or needy or mean or just plain irrelevant, he can never quite bring himself to hit send. 

At night he’s barely sleeping, unable to stop picking over every unguarded thought he’s ever had and chastising himself for them; he spends his days biting his tongue to keep his temper over nothing and then feeling awful about _being_ awful instead of just fucking sorting his shit out, drinking too much coffee until he just feels wired and exhausted instead of only exhausted.

 _This is just a storm, and it will pass,_ he reminds himself as the days become a week, and then it’s Thursday.

He loves their wonderful, ridiculous game more than anything except his family – and _them,_ his second family – but he’s all too aware that they need him to be the best version of himself. They need him smart and funny and resourceful, never mind the tens of thousands of people who’re watching and the hundreds who will inevitably tweet him about it if he fucks up; and what they’re getting tonight will be a facsimile, wrung out and barely competent if the rest of his week is anything to go by.

He arrives deliberately late so he doesn't have to talk to anyone, suffers through Dani powdering his face, and barely has time to get his bearings before their two minute call, and they take their seats.

It's... not great.

The first half of the game is okay. He has the good fortune that Caleb found a new spell scroll at the end of last week and he can insist on studying it immediately, leaning into the distracted academic stereotype so he doesn't have to participate beyond the bare minimum, just letting the rest of the action mostly wash over him as he tries to stifle his yawns. 

At the break he steps out into the parking lot to get some air, closing his eyes as he takes a few deep, steady breaths. The evening is pleasantly cool, and he’s starting to think he might just get through this.

He should have known better.

The second half is where it all unravels, and of course it’s his fault: Beau’s after dirt on the local Lawmaster, which means sneaking into her office after dark; nobody’s planned anything, because of course they haven’t, Beau and Caduceus are already in position at the back door and Nott and Jester are trying to convince the rest of them to let them create a distraction. Fjord’s trying unsuccessfully to talk them out of it, and Liam knows it’s Caleb who needs to rein Nott in when she gets like this but right now he simply does not have the energy.

“Go on. What could possibly go wrong,” he says tiredly, and he’s sure the twin incredulous glares that Travis and Marisha shoot him will be hilarious for the viewers but he can’t quite bring himself to care.

Of course, everything goes wrong. Fjord and Jester run out into the town square, launch straight into the middle of a very public lovers’ quarrel and promptly fail their performance checks; when the two Crownsguard come out to tell them to break it up Jester uses Charm Person, but one fails his save and it’s immediately obvious there are going to be consequences. Meanwhile Nott and Caleb dash across the square behind them and into the Stockade, which they manage without being seen on what will turn out to be Liam’s last good roll of the night; they let Beau and Caduceus in through the back door, Nott fails to pick the lock to the Lawmaster’s office and Liam immediately blows a second-level spell slot casting Knock, only for Beau to walk through the door and come face to face with the Lawmaster herself, as none of them had actually bothered to check that she’d gone home for the night before breaking into her place of work.

Liam immediately casts Suggestion. The Lawmaster saves. 

Predictably, they do not get what they came for. Instead, they get run out of town, which is at least better than getting arrested; but Matt’s got that urgent tone in his voice and everybody’s talking at once, and Liam’s skull feels like it’s on the verge of splitting open.

He takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose, and he must have succeeded in actually spacing out for a bit, because when he puts them back on everyone’s fallen silent, and he realises Travis is looking at him.

“Hmm? What?”

Travis asks, as Fjord, “You alright there, Caleb? Were you injured?” 

Liam blinks – the Crownsguard didn’t get in a hit – but Fjord wasn’t with them, he wouldn’t know that – but Travis does – but all the possible permutations are too much for him to make sense of. “No, I am fine.”

“Really, cause you don’t look fine,” Marisha says – and _oh fuck,_ is Beau in this scene too, he wasn’t listening and they’re all looking at him, are they all just–?

He half-wants to play it out. 

But he can feel how tenuous his hold on the threads of his control are right now, and he can’t be sure he wouldn’t snap at one of them or break down on stream, or something equally mortifying.

“I walk away,” is all he says to Matt, not meeting his eyes.

He can come up with an in-game reason for this by next week, he just needs them all to leave him alone for the rest of the session. 

Marisha puts a hand on his arm, and it’s only his hyper-awareness of the cameras on them that stops him shrugging her off.

He counts to sixty before getting up and going to the bathroom, where he rests his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and takes three deep breaths, in and out, before splashing water on his face, patting it dry and taking off most of the powder, and heading back to the table.

He escapes to the kitchen the moment they’re out, gathering up everyone’s mugs as an excuse, but he’s barely had thirty seconds’ peace when Sam follows him in, leaning against the counter beside him and folding his arms.

“So what’s up with you tonight?” he asks without preamble, and Liam supposes that more than fifteen years into their friendship, he doesn’t get to be surprised any more.

“Rough day,” he mumbles, without looking over. Sending out all the signals that he wishes Sam would let it go; hoping that he won’t.

“Is it just today?”

He doesn’t lie to Sam. That’s his line, it always has been, and Sam has always known when to ask. 

“Look at me.” Face burning, he doesn’t move. “ _Liam._ ” 

It would be nice if he could take some comfort in the inevitability of Sam breaking down his defences and stripping him raw; after all, God only knows they've been round this particular merry-go-round enough times.

But despite being an adult man in his forties with no actual, real problems, he’s apparently determined to act like a sulky child when the mood takes him.

He should have his shit together. He shouldn’t – 

Sam is texting.

Liam asks, “What are you doing?” It comes out snappier than he intended.

Sam’s still smiling, but Liam’s no stranger to the assessing look in his eyes.

“I messaged Matt. You need to get out of your own head, my friend.”

Liam’s stomach drops.

“Oh, and you’re the expert on that suddenly, are you?”

It feels _good,_ to be able to snipe at someone and know he can’t do any real damage, because this is apparently the kind of person he is right now.

Sam, predictably, is unperturbed. “Of course. They don’t call me Dr. Riegel for nothing.”

“Internet diplomas don’t count.”

“Then I want my money back.” His phone pings. “Matt’s coming.”

Liam runs a hand through his hair and rolls his eyes, even though it makes his head hurt. “Do I get a say in this?”

Sam’s grin doesn’t waver. “Nope.”

“You print off one certificate and you think you’re a fucking psychiatrist.”

“Hey, I’ve never had any complaints about my bedside manner,” Sam replies just as Matt walks in, and when he actually winks Liam can’t help cracking a weak smile in return.

He loves a lot of things about Sam, but he thinks one of his favourites is that Sam always knows how to be normal with him, even when he feels like a sack of shit. Whatever ridiculous bullshit is going on inside his head, it’s never enough to drown out the part of him that still cares about making Sam laugh.

“What can I do for you, Sam?” 

Matt is raising a skeptical eyebrow, no doubt assuming from the context of the last few moments that he’s been called in here for something stupid; but as soon as Sam jabs a thumb in Liam’s direction and says, “Our boy here’s thinking too much,” it’s almost comical how quickly his face changes.

“Liam?”

Liam looks him in the eye, and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Matt doesn’t have Liam’s own mean streak, or Sam’s Teflon humour. He’s almost as scarily perceptive as Sam is and he’s empathetic to a fault, and right now Liam halfway thinks he’d even prefer pity.

He doesn’t know how to be gracious, never has.

“Apparently,” he says instead, and goes to get himself a bottle of water from the fridge so he doesn’t have to look at him any more.

There are a few moments of silence, Sam and Matt no doubt having a wordless conversation behind his back, and Liam grits his teeth and wonders sardonically if they’d let him leave them to it.

He doesn’t know what the fuck’s wrong with him.

(That’s a lie: he knows all too well.)

Surely the first time should be the hardest.

Surely this should be getting easier, or he should be getting better at it, not worse. 

It’s been _months,_ for fuck’s sake; they’ve all seen him wear the collar now, even Ashley, and even though they probably think it’s as weird as fuck they are at least kind about it. They’ve – touched him, as platonically or not as they liked. He’s survived not just one but several mostly-excruciating conversations with Matt about boundaries and limits, and even the times he’s lain awake all night wanting to expire from shame over the state they’ve seen him in, he’s managed to pack it all away again come morning – and now?

Now they’re trying to help him and he’s acting like a cat facing down bathtime.

It’s ridiculous, but he doesn’t think he can stop himself.

“Liam.” Matt lifts a hand, leaves it hovering in the air between them. “Can I touch you?” 

The idea of Matt taking him in his arms, holding him ( _strong,_ his hindbrain insists, _safe_ ) fills him with a longing so sudden and acute that he actually wants to recoil – except there’s nowhere to go when it’s yourself you want to recoil from.

“Please don’t,” he manages, taking a long drink of water and trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes burning, though he knows them too well to think that he can get anything past them.

“Okay.” He doesn’t deserve Matt. He really, really doesn’t. “Will you talk to me about it?”

 _Technically, I could, technically,_ he thinks in Jester’s voice, though it’s not particularly funny. But without cracking up?

It shouldn’t matter. They’ve all cried on each other multiple times at this point in their friendship; he should just get the fuck over himself and acknowledge that he has emotions like a normal human being. It’s not like he can embarrass himself any more than he already has.

He takes a breath.

“It’s – stupid. This is stupid.” Oh – bad, _bad_ start, he realises too late, now Matt is looking like he feels and Liam wants to slam his own head against the wall because seriously, nobody deserves this less than Matt. “I mean. I’m a fucking adult, okay, I shouldn’t need to be –”

He pulls himself up short, but it’s too late: Matt knows exactly what he was going to say, of course he does, because it’s obvious, and Liam really is the _worst_ person, to throw everything Matt’s done for him and everything he’s shared with him back in his face like – 

“Liam.”

His voice endlessly gentle and endlessly patient, even when Liam’s being a total shit.

It cuts through his spiralling thoughts – but he’s got nothing to fall back on, and for a moment he just looks between the two of them wide-eyed, and thinks, _help._

Sam’s smile has vanished.

“Now you listen up.” He pauses for emphasis, crossing his arms. “We both know that Matt’s not going to tell you to stop being a pain in the ass and let us help you already, because he’s too nice. But luckily you have me for that. So here’s how it’s gonna go. Tonight, we are not going to Del Taco. You are gonna get in my car and I’m gonna drive you to Matt’s, where he is gonna make you see stars while I make you dinner, and _you_ will just keep quiet and look pretty, and stop fighting us on it. Okay?”

 _This is what you wanted,_ Liam points out to himself.

Still, he can’t make himself say yes.

Perhaps predictably, Matt looks a little offended. “Uh, consent is important, buddy?”

Sam’s grin is back, as if it had never left. “That was a question at the end there. That covers the consent part.”

Liam says: “What I’m getting from this is that you think I’m pretty.”

He really, _really_ doesn’t deserve them.

“Damn right. Now get that gorgeous ass to my car before I change my mind.”

“Now who’s kinky,” Liam says when Sam actually slaps his ass on the way out the door, the clenching feeling in his chest easing just a little.

Matt ends up driving with them so Marisha can take their car. Sam refuses to let Liam drive himself, and when Matt and Liam have a weird stand-off moment where they both try to let the other take the front passenger seat, Sam doesn’t miss a beat to say, “Submissives in the back,” and Liam rolls his eyes and decides they’ll treat Sam like a fucking cab driver if that’s what he wants.

In response, Sam puts on KROQ for the entire journey and sings along obnoxiously well to everything that comes on; Liam’s still not sure he can manage to say the right thing, but he puts his hand on top of Matt’s on the seat between them, and tries not to do anything ridiculous like tearing up when Matt takes it in both of his, and squeezes.

Sam’s taken over Matt’s kitchen enough times in the past five years that he doesn’t need any guidance, just shooes them off to the living room as soon as Matt’s finished getting a couple of beers from the fridge. Liam follows on autopilot as Matt hands him a beer and leads him over to the couch – and then stops short, feeling his ears begin to burn as he remembers what happened last time he was on that couch, because of _course_ he has to have a fucking obvious tell as well.

In the absence of any other ideas he elects to pretend it isn’t happening, sits down and kicks off his shoes, and waits.

Matt leans forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs with his hands clasped around his beer, the glass starting to sweat, and looks Liam straight in the eyes.

“Okay. So you and I are going to talk some more about this as well. That’s not optional. But I’ll let you choose whether we do that before or after.”

“This is what happens when I let you listen to Sam Riegel,” Liam tries, but subsides just as quickly when Matt gives him his best seriously-do-not-fuck-with-me look.

“ _Liam._ Before, or after?”

He sighs. “After.”

After, at least, he won’t be quite compos mentis enough to get in his own way.

“ _Good._ Well done,” Matt replies, and it should be laughable but the weight of his praise is – Matt is _so much_ when he wants to be, and Liam can’t bear it, not yet – 

He knocks back a good half of his beer, drops down onto the carpet, and rests his head on Matt’s knees.

“Okay. Okay,” Matt says, Liam thinks mainly to himself, and as Matt’s hands start to card through his hair, the sheer _relief_ is so great that he nearly breaks down right there. “That’s good. There you go.” 

Once he decides he doesn’t want to resist any more, it’s scary how quickly he starts to fall. 

He doesn’t think he could do this with anyone but Matt.

“Collar’s in the spare bedroom,” Matt says after – a couple minutes? Liam’s not even sure. “Can I go get it?”

Liam _wants_ – wants _desperately_ – but the idea of letting Matt leave the room even for thirty seconds threatens to dislodge something precariously balanced inside him, and he tightens his grip on Matt’s legs, for a moment completely unsure what to do.

“Uh. Let’s go together,” he replies, when he finally realises that’s an option, and waits for Matt to pull him to his feet.

Sam gives them a wave from the kitchen as they pass, and Liam raises a hand in reply, thinking, _I’m so fucking lucky._

Matt presses a palm to the centre of his back as he follows him upstairs.

The collar is in a beautiful redwood box in the centre of the bookshelf; Liam wonders absurdly if it’s a Wyrmwood. He certainly doesn’t think he’s seen it before, though normally things have already started to swim when Matt appears before him, strip of leather laid across his palms like a gift.

Liam remembers a lot of things from this bedroom, in snatches like images from dreams: being sandwiched between Travis and Laura; eating Marisha out for what felt like hours; choking on Taliesin’s cock, then falling asleep in his arms.

He remembers the first time, just with Matt, not even doing anything, just holding each other while Liam’s mind left his body and went somewhere he hadn’t known it was possible to go.

He falls wordlessly to his knees at Matt’s feet, bows his head, and thinks, _please._

The steady pressure of the leather around his throat, Matt’s fingers brushing the nape of his neck as they buckle it in place, is a homecoming.

After that, everything is easy.

Even though he’s wearing Matt’s collar, Matt never leads him, never pulls or pushes. Instead, he takes Liam’s cues: helps him to his feet and out of his jeans, lies down with him, moves closer, kisses back.

Tonight, Liam doesn’t sink too far, just enough to let that wonderful warm, safe feeling permeate his consciousness as he lies on the bed with Matt, making out like teenagers. He has one hand on Matt’s hip where his T-shirt’s ridden up, and Matt’s fingers are stroking his hair, all over his face and his neck, until he feels like he’s preening beneath the gentle touch. He doesn’t really know how much time passes, but he’s enough himself that when Sam knocks on the door and calls out, “Ten minutes, guys,” it’s him who answers.

He rolls onto his back, and when Matt presses up against him and rests his head on his chest, says, “Thank you. For the intervention.”

“Thank Sam,” Matt deflects neatly, as if they don’t both know he’s doing it. His jaw is flushed – Liam wonders if he’s given him stubble burn – and his lips are a little swollen.

“And I’m sorry I said what I did.” He rakes his fingers through Matt’s hair, pulling a few unruly strands back into line. “I – don’t think any less of you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah. I do.” Matt tilts his head back to meet his gaze. “But we have different rules for ourselves, don’t we.”

 _Called out,_ Liam thinks flippantly.

But Matt deserves more from him than that.

He confesses: “I don’t want to be the kind of person who’s – dependent on this.”

It’s still hard to say, even through the lingering haze of warmth. Even to Matt, who understands what he’s feeling better than anyone.

Matt reaches for his hand, and laces their fingers together.

“I don’t think you are. I think you’ve got your own stuff to deal with, like we all do, and you deal with it. This is just one way you can make it a little easier.”

Liam huffs. “It sounds so reasonable when you say it like that.”

Matt’s smile is a small, sad thing. “It always does, when someone else says it.” 

Liam presses a kiss to the top of Matt’s head, thinking, _if I could take it all upon myself for you, then I would._

His voice sounds too loud to his own ears when he asks: “Do you – struggle?”

“With this? No, but I’ve been into kink for fifteen years. Don’t forget you’ve basically gone from zero to sixty in less than six months.” Liam can practically feel the weight of Matt assessing him, and thinks inanely, _here it comes._ “You’re not kind to yourself, are you?” 

“No. I’m really not.”

It seems counter-intuitive, that after everything he’s done, it’s _this_ which makes him feel a new, fresh flush of shame – but he supposes it has always been easier to care about disappointing Matt than about how he treats himself.

“Okay. So how do we help you?”

“The – intervention helped. And, uh. You have my ongoing consent to more interventions.”

Matt gives him what Liam privately calls his disappointed dad look. “If you need help admitting that you need help, that’s okay. But I’m not willing to start pushing you into this. That’s not the kind of dynamic I want.”

“No. Sorry. I don’t want that either. I just – I know I need to stop fighting myself.”

_But I don’t know how._

“And for the record. If you want me to top you, you don’t have to feel like you need it. You can just want to.”

The sound of Liam’s own ragged breathing in his ears feels far too loud.

“You know, the more you tell me about what’s bothering you, the more I can try and help.”

“Touché.” When Matt doesn’t reply, just waits him out, Liam forces the words past the lump in his throat: “I think – if it was just you, it would be okay. But I asked everyone to – I feel like they’re just humouring me. Liam and his weird ideas.” He laughs bitterly, unable to stop himself, as Matt squeezes his hand.

“Oh, buddy. Do you ever talk to anyone about our scenes? Except me?”

“No.” And they both know the only reason he even talks to Matt is that Matt basically makes him. “Sam, sometimes, but – we joke about it. Not properly.”

 _Sam makes me feel normal,_ he doesn’t say.

“So you remember I told you I’d started a group chat, before your birthday party? So that I could make sure everyone was on the same page?”

“Yeah.”

As if he could have forgotten.

As if he doesn’t lie awake into the small hours of the morning thinking about them all talking about him, and even though he knows it’s only because they care, anxiety doesn’t exactly listen to reason.

“I asked everyone if they’d be okay with you reading it eventually, when you were ready. They all said yes.”

Liam can hear his own heartbeat, thundering in his ears.

“Really.”

“Would you like to read it right now?”

“Yeah. Okay.” 

Matt untangles himself from Liam’s embrace and leans over the edge of the bed, digging through the pockets of his discarded jeans, and Liam just stays very still and quiet and concentrates on breathing, in and out, until Matt hands him his phone, unlocked.

The group is called _Helping Liam stop thinking._

He quickly realises that there’s a _lot_ of it, which – okay, it’s been several months, and he’s not going to jump to conclusions, he’s just going to read it.

He scrolls right to the top – which takes a few minutes – and starts to read.

* * *

> _You created the group “Liam birthday party planning”_
> 
> You: Hey everyone, so we all know Liam's been having a rough time lately, and he has trouble turning his brain off. So a couple months ago I lent him a collar and that helped a lot
> 
> Laura: Oh my God Matt
> 
> Taliesin: Matthew Mercer, are you trying to tell us that you topped him??
> 
> Taliesin: I'm so proud
> 
> Travis: Wait 
> 
> Travis: You had sex with Liam?
> 
> Travis: And what does that have to do with a birthday party
> 
> You: @Taliesin yes I did, @Travis no I did not
> 
> Taliesin: @Travis you and me are going to have a talk about the difference between topping in the kink context and topping in the gay sex context
> 
> Travis: Thanks because to be honest I’m not following this
> 
> You: OK guys. Please let me finish before you start asking questions
> 
> You: So we’ve done a couple of scenes since then and it made him feel a lot better, but he’d also like to be able to wear the collar around other people than just me. So Marisha and I were thinking of throwing him a little early birthday party at ours whenever we can fit it in the schedule, just all of us. The purpose of this chat is to make sure everyone's on the same page and set some ground rules
> 
> You: The idea is to have a really low key evening, dinner and drinks, and Liam gets to relax and not have to think while we do that
> 
> You: He will probably be pretty embarrassed at first. He will also be anywhere between a bit spaced out and a _lot_ spaced out, very tactile even by Liam standards, and he'll be feeling everything much more strongly than usual. Our job is to make sure those feelings are good feelings
> 
> You: We agreed on the same rules for everyone: cuddling is okay, kissing is okay, full on making out is okay if you'd like to. Touching stays over clothes, and I mean platonic touching and not groping
> 
> You: The most important thing is  absolutely no negotiation even if he initiates it. He won't be able to meaningfully consent. If I haven't said it's okay beforehand then it's a no.
> 
> You: Also consent applies to everyone. Nobody should do anything or have to watch anything they're not comfortable with. Any concerns, come to me.
> 
> You: Okay that's everything. Now I’ll take questions
> 
> Laura: Okay this is amazing
> 
> Marisha: Isn't it just
> 
> Ashley: Shit I'm almost certainly not gonna make it :(
> 
> Ashley: Can someone slip him some tongue for me
> 
> Taliesin: I'm assigning everyone except Matt homework for this
> 
> Laura: @Ashley I volunteer as tribute
> 
> Marisha: @Sam are you quiet because you already knew or because you're busy combusting
> 
> You: Before this devolves into a complete free for all, does anyone have any actual real questions
> 
> Marisha: Can we talk to him about it? Does he want us to talk to him about it?
> 
> Ashley: @Taliesin I hope it's 50 Shades
> 
> You: Everyone can talk to him about it for sure
> 
> Taliesin: @Ashley I will get Matt to ban you from this chat I swear to Bahamut 
> 
> You: If I was him then I'd just want you guys to be normal about it. Don’t avoid mentioning it but don’t interrogate him either
> 
> You: I made this chat so you can ask all your burning questions here instead
> 
> Sam: @Marisha I am actually working today unlike all you layabouts
> 
> Sam: But in answer to your question, Liam already told me
> 
> Sam: Except for the part where he wants everyone to make out with him, I can't imagine how that slipped his mind
> 
> Laura: Is it okay to joke about it?
> 
> Sam: I think he'd be offended if you didn't
> 
> Ashley: Last one to make out with Liam's a rotten egg
> 
> Ashley: Oh shit that’s gonna be me isn’t it
> 
> Ashley: Fuck

* * *

Ears burning, Liam starts skimming the messages.

* * *

> Marisha: Okay 2 questions
> 
> Marisha: Number 1 @Sam how's Liam
> 
> Marisha: Number 2 @Travis is there anything you wanna tell us
> 
> Sam: Liam's good. He's a bit embarrassed but he's burning pancakes like a champ
> 
> Sam: <image>
> 
> Sam: He says hi
> 
> Sam: I think Travis is too busy having an awakening to reply to this message
> 
> Taliesin: Well done Matt
> 
> Taliesin: He's a natural
> 
> You: No reflection on me buddy. I'm just facilitating
> 
> Taliesin: And very well done Travis
> 
> Ashley: Oh my God that is one hell of a hickey 
> 
> Ashley: Wait what did Travis do
> 
> Sam: @Ashley That
> 
> Ashley: Woah
> 
> Ashley: I'm seriously missing out here aren't I 
> 
> Laura: Don’t worry babe we'll save you some ;)
> 
> _Sam changed the group name to “Travis' Sexual Awakening”_

* * *

> You: Morning everyone. Liam and I have some new rules

* * *

> _Laura changed the group name to "Every good boy deserves f"_

* * *

> Laura: <image>
> 
> Ashley: OH MY GOD GUYS
> 
> Ashley: Why the fuck am I in New York this is such bullshit
> 
> Ashley: If I get myself off to this does it cross a line
> 
> Ashley: Too late

* * *

> Marisha: OKAY do I speak for all of us when I say WHEW
> 
> Marisha: Hot damn Matt
> 
> Marisha: This may be among the best ideas you've ever had
> 
> Laura: He looked like he was having so much fun I wanna try it
> 
> You: @Laura Much as I love you, believe me when I say I could not handle that
> 
> You: I cannot speak for Taliesin however
> 
> Taliesin: @Laura Have your people call my people darling
> 
> Taliesin: Bring your husband
> 
> Taliesin: I hear he’s bicurious
> 
> Travis: I’m still vanilla
> 
> Taliesin: Your wife’s not

* * *

> Ashley: FINALLY
> 
> Ashley: I think it makes more sense to me now
> 
> Ashley: I didn't really get it before but he just looked so happy
> 
> Ashley: If it makes you that happy then I can kind of get it
> 
> Sam: I don’t "get it" either in the sense of wanting to do it, but I think that's all we need to get
> 
> Travis: I just know I think it's hot as fuck
> 
> Laura: @Travis srs bsns your surprise bisexuality is the best thing about this <3
> 
> Travis: Yeah well
> 
> Travis: I guess Liam was right when he said we're all pretty fluid

* * *

> _Laura changed the group name to "Liam O'Face appreciation"_
> 
> _You changed the group name to "Liam O'Brien appreciation"_
> 
> _Laura changed the group name to "Liam O'GOD YES THERE"_

* * *

> Travis: Guys is Liam OK
> 
> Sam: Don’t worry I'm on it
> 
> You: For anyone who didn't hear yet, Sam and I are skipping Del Taco and taking him back to ours. He just needs to get out of his head for a bit
> 
> Marisha: @You How is he?

* * *

When he finally puts the phone down, Matt prompts, "How are you feeling?"

Liam gives him a look. "Imagine you've just read several hundred messages' worth of your friends full-on thirsting over you all in one go. That's how I'm feeling."

Matt actually winces. "Yeah. Okay."

“But – I’m glad I read it. Thank you.” 

Gently, Matt says, “They’re not humouring you.”

For a moment they just look at each other – then there’s another knock at the door.

“I hope you boys are decent in there, cause I’m coming in!”

Liam rolls his eyes, grinning as he ducks his head, and Matt’s hands reach for the buckle.

Sam’s made pasta puttanesca, which Liam quickly decides is the perfect comfort food. They eat on the couch, Sam resting one hand on Liam’s thigh as he talks to Matt about Arcane Trickster class options at higher levels, both of them leaving it up to Liam whether or not he wants to involve himself in the discussion.

He doesn’t, not really. Even though he’s no longer wearing the collar he still feels pleasantly buzzed, and is enjoying just _being,_ enjoying the lingering echoes of warmth and comfort as the feeling recedes, as slowly as the tide going out.

When they’re done Matt takes their plates, and Sam turns to Liam. 

“Where’s your head at?”

Liam taps his temple. “Right here.”

“Good,” Sam replies, and for a moment Liam can’t read his expression.

Then he takes Liam’s face in his hands and kisses him. 

Sam has kissed him before – but not like this. This is softer, deeper. Lingering. A lover’s kiss.

Liam doesn’t understand – but he still feels warm and safe, and so he tells himself firmly not to question, and kisses back. 

“I don’t know if I’ll want to do that again. But I wanted to do it once,” Sam says eventually, smiling at whatever expression is on Liam’s face. “I was the last one, wasn’t I?”

“Do you count Brian Foster?” Liam manages.

“I never count Brian Foster.” Sam winks. “Anyway, it’s not about being the first. It’s about being the best.”

Liam’s grinning, wide enough his cheeks ache. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

“And there was me thinking it was just my dashing good looks.” 

Sam fakes a yawn, stretches, and puts his arm around Liam’s shoulders; Liam rolls his eyes, but snuggles in anyway.

He says: “I read the group chat. The Liam thirst group.”

“Oh yeah? I’m glad you finally got to see it. I think it’s our finest work.”

“Did Ashley really get herself off to that picture–?”

Sam snorts. “ _Oh_ yeah. Matt threatened to have a Serious Talk with her about boundaries before we all convinced him it was hilarious.”

Liam can’t help his laughter. “Oh my God.”

Sam’s hand comes up to pet Liam’s hair. “How was Matthew’s sexual therapy, then?”

Liam shrugs. “We just made out. It was good, though.”

“Do you mean to tell me it’s not all about having your brain sucked out through your dick?”

“Well, now I know who didn’t do Taliesin’s homework.”

“Guilty,” Sam replies, never having sounded less guilty about anything.

“But in answer to your question. Matt and I don’t really do that. I don’t think it’s what he wants.”

Sam’s head tilts. “What do you want?”

Liam hesitates, uncomfortably aware that they’ve wandered onto rather intimate territory. “I’m not sure it works like that.”

But Sam isn’t dissuaded. “So explain it to me.”

“I just –” He sighs. “I want to feel loved. And – to have nothing else in my head except that feeling for a while. So what I want is what everyone else wants to give me. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. It does.” Sam squeezes his shoulders. “And you are. Loved.”

“Having you –” It sticks in his throat, but he forces it out – “Having you there with me, it means more than anything.”

“I know.” Sam kisses the top of his head. “I knew the first time I saw it.”

They fall silent, Liam’s throat tight and his eyes burning not for the first time tonight, and he wonders if it would be easier if he could just – let go. Cry it all out, until there’s nothing left to knot him up on the inside. 

He’ll ask Matt about it. Not now, but soon, because if Liam’s going to start falling apart then he at least deserves some warning. 

“It’s late,” Sam says, giving his shoulder one last squeeze. “Are you almost ready?”

“Yeah.” 

He wants nothing less, but. 

“Okay. Go say your goodbyes to Matthew and I’ll drive you back to your car.”

Matt sees them out, stopping Liam in the doorway with a hand on his hip. “How do we do this better next time?”

Liam frowns. “How do you mean?”

“He means the part where you keep pretending you’re fine when you’re clearly not, until we have to stage a kinky intervention,” Sam explains, with what Liam feels is unnecessary relish.

“Yeah. Okay.” Liam pushes a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to fall back into the dynamics of their scene instead of dealing with his shit like an adult. “I think I’m gonna need a little help with that one.” 

Matt’s answering smile is one of the soft ones. “I think we can do that.”

* * *

> Matt: So I told everyone you’d read the group chat messages, and asked if they were okay with you joining if you wanted to
> 
> Matt: It’s all good, so let me know if you’d like to?
> 
> You: I don’t want to make them feel like they have to tone it down
> 
> You: What am I saying, it’ll probably make them worse
> 
> You: Okay I’m in
> 
> Matt: Okay I'll add you in a moment
> 
> Matt: Also would you like to get breakfast on Monday? I want to propose a regular play date but I'd rather hash out the details in person

* * *

> _Matt added you to "Liam Thirst Central"_
> 
> You: So I hear you've all been talking about me

* * *

By Monday morning Liam's still a bit jittery, but he slept for fourteen hours on Friday night and managed to enjoy the whole weekend with his family without it being overshadowed by his issues, so he counts that as a win.

He even manages to wait until their waitress has brought over the coffee before raising an eyebrow at Matt and prompting, “So about this ‘play date’.”

“Yes. What I’m proposing is that we schedule in a fixed date, once a month. You and me, and you can invite anyone else you like as well. Then it’s not something we only do when you’re feeling rough, it’s just something we do. What do you think?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Liam takes a sip of coffee as he thinks. “Are you sure it’s not too much? I know how stupidly busy you are –”

He snaps his mouth shut when Matt’s eyes widen.

“I’m just realising I’ve fucked something up here.”

Liam frowns, unable to imagine what Matt could possibly have fucked up. “What? How?”

Instead of explaining, Matt asks, “Why do you think I’m doing all this?”

For a moment, Liam’s anxiety rears its head – but he squashes it immediately back down, telling it firmly, _this is Matt, you idiot,_ and replies, “To help me. With my occasionally shitty brain.” He pauses. “Because you’re an amazing person and you care, and don’t you dare try and dodge that compliment, Mercer, I know your tricks.”

Matt’s smile looks a little like it’s trying to curl in on itself, but his voice is steady when he replies, “All true. But I’m not only doing this for you. I also like it for myself. And I should have told you that clearly until I was sure it had stuck, instead of letting you think I’ve been topping you purely as a favour. Because I would have known you’d come to that conclusion if I’d actually thought about it.”

“Matt.” Liam spreads his hands, palms up. “You have done – _so_ much for me. Don’t you _dare_ beat yourself up because there was one little thing you didn’t think of.” He gives him his sternest glare. “This is your first time doing this for someone else, right?”

“Topping them?” Matt asks lightly – and _okay,_ Liam supposes that if his long-term plan involves being okay with what he’s doing then being able to call it by its actual name is probably not optional.

“Yes. Topping them.”

“I’ve done it a couple times before, but all one-offs. I barely even consider what I do to be ‘topping’, really. It’s more just facilitating.” Matt wraps his hands around his coffee cup. “I’m not there to do things to you, you do it all yourself. I’m just there to keep you safe while you do it.”

Liam wonders if Matt would describe himself as ‘just facilitating’ their game too, when not a moment of it would be possible without him.

“You do it _with_ me,” Liam argues, though he’s not sure which of them he’s really telling. “And that’s a big deal. It’s a really big deal.”

Anything Matt might have said in reply is lost as the waitress returns with their food, and Liam spends a couple of minutes tucking into his eggs and hash browns, and trying to balance his mental loads: anxiety versus necessity, versus curiosity, versus possibility.

He says: “So you like this, for you. What do you like about it?”

He realises immediately that he’s put Matt on the spot – and is opening his mouth to qualify it when Matt’s expression turns thoughtful.

“I like to give people joy, however I can.” He shrugs, as though it’s nothing. “But that’s not the only thing. I definitely get a kick from – from taking care of you while you’re vulnerable, is the easiest way to explain it.”

 _Vulnerable._ It’s a weird thought, but Liam can’t deny he recognises himself in it, if he thinks about all the moments he’s skirted along the precipice of being overwhelmed; and how again and again, he’s turned to Matt.

“I’ve just had an idea.”

When Liam looks up, there’s a new energy in Matt’s expression – excitement and a little bit of nerves, if he’s not mistaken. “If you wanted... the best way to understand something is to see it from the other side. Would you be interested in flipping the script one time? If only for curiosity’s sake?”

Liam blinks.

Even before Matt first offered him his collar, Liam kind of knew what the deal was with Matt and Marisha and occasionally Taliesin – they didn’t exactly broadcast it but didn’t attempt to hide it either, and Matt has always taken the periodic jokes aimed his way with good grace, and occasionally given as good as he got in return.

He knows he’s learned a lot about Matt in the last few months, but it’s probably been tailored to what Matt thought he needed to learn. He’s been too deep in his own issues to think much beyond that – but also, it would have been crossing a line, even within the privacy of his own head. Thinking about Matt and what he liked was not a space Matt had ever invited him into.

Now, he’s being handed that invitation.

And all this sounds a bit like Matt is trying to – well, not convince him, Matt doesn’t try to convince people of things, but. Give him reasons to consider saying yes, perhaps.

So he does.

“Yes. I think so? I’m interested in trying, anyway. If you’d like that?”

“Yeah. I really would.”

Matt looks a little embarrassed by his own enthusiasm – and it’s a jolt to realise that that’s something Liam will be getting to... play with.

Suddenly he thinks he sees the appeal.

“We’re fascinating, aren’t we? With our funny, funny brains.”

Matt nods and smiles, not a little relieved. “And the places they can take us.”

“I’ll need some help,” Liam adds, as he starts to think through the implications of what he’s just taken on.

“‘Course. Just give me a few days to talk to Marisha and Tal, and I’ll put together a yes list for you, and we can start playing schedule Tetris.” Matt smiles when Liam groans. “I know, your favourite thing. And I have a book to lend you – it’s about polyamory. Just to make sure you’ve got all the tools you need.”

“Great. Thanks.”

It’s insufficient, but Liam’s mind is racing with new ideas, and he thinks Matt will understand.

Matt grins, a little shyly. “I should be thanking _you._ ”

“I love you,” Liam blurts out, artless as ever. “For – all the reasons.” 

“I love you too,” Matt replies easily, and reaches across the table to squeeze Liam’s fingers where they’re gripping his coffee cup for dear life.

It’s not easy, not by a long shot – but.

Maybe it could be.


End file.
